One World Away

"So, you point the lens, and whatever it catches, it records, sound and all," I explained, holding Nicholas' old video camera in one hand and swinging it around to display everything on the large television that it was hooked up to. Turning it around, I waved at the device and caused the man who was seated on the ground to chuckle, his thin lips turning upward in a charming smile.

"I still can't completely understand the mechanism, but I suppose I grasp the basic workings of it," he commented, raising a hand and gesturing toward it when I directed it at him.

"It gets better," I continued, grinning as I hit the play button.

The sounds and images of the two of us sprang up on the screen immediately, our surroundings spinning as I adjusted the camera and spoke into it. "This, my dear ghostie, is a video camera."

Brian watched in amazement as he watched the two of us on the TV, his brows knitting together as he reached forward to brush his fingers across the glass, though they just slipped right through. "But, how are we there if we're both right here?"

I laughed and shook my head. "It's a recording, so when you tape something, you can just look back on it and watch it all over again."

The ghost just kept frowning as he murmured, more to himself than to me, "The world has aged so very much."

Nodding, I turned the camera off, making the screen go black. Brian jumped a bit at the sudden darkness in front of him, but put two and two together and realized what I had done. He stood to his feet, brushing off his shirt and retrieving the waistcoat that only he could touch from the ground. I had tried picking it up for him earlier only to find that it wasn't tangible to me, almost like a hologram.

"Well," I clapped my hands together, "Now that you've gotten you're modern world lesson of the day, what do you propose we do, Lord Haner?"

My new friend grinned but didn't answer directly. "I will leave it to you to decide, Miss Leigha."

I stretched, then began walking out of the game room, nodding for him to follow before I turned the lights out. I couldn't hear his strides behind me, but I knew he was there, I could sense him.

"Where are we going?" He inquired.

"Our room," I answered simply.

I glanced over to see a gentle smile in place on his features, and he looked at me with fond eyes. "Our room?"

I nodded. "It was yours before it was mine, so I'll meet you in the middle and say it's ours."

He didn't say anything after that, just nodded, but I could tell that he appreciated my acknowledgement. Such small things gladdened old people.

Abbeline and Trevor had left after the movie, once I told them that I needed to study and subtly suggested that they leave. The girl my age had been a little confused, knowing my nature better than her boyfriend did, but she had only eyed me skeptically before gathering her things and letting me lead them both out of the house. Truthfully, I just wanted to sit down and spend more time with Brian, because he was loads more interesting than the two very alive people that I had known for the last few years.

"So, tell me about yourself," I tried. I had opened up to him the night before. It was his turn.

"Well," he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as he paced the length of my room, examining my belongings without touching or picking any of them up (not that he could). "What would you like to know?"

I sat cross legged on my bed and grinned widely, excited about getting a look into his life and finding it hard to tear my gaze away from him. Periodically, I'd have the sudden epiphany of his being deceased, and it would hit me like a ton of bricks every time, but I had to admit, I was getting a little more used to the idea of it the longer he hung around.

"Um, what did you do? What were your hobbies?"

He thought for a moment before letting an expression of nostalgia settle over his handsome face. "I used to write in my free time."

"Like, books, or poetry, or- "

"Music," he answered. "I'm quite the pianist, if you'll allow me to boast."

I laughed and held my hands up. "Boast away."

He looked over the spines of the books on my shelf, nodding in approval at some of the titles and quirking an eyebrow at others. "It was my passion," he admitted. "Playing music, that is, and it was what I always found myself doing. Had I lived longer, I may have been able to make a name for myself."

A pang of sadness nestled itself right in the pit of my stomach, and I watched him with large eyes, wondering what it had been like. "How exactly did you, um..."

"Die?" He finished, turning to meet my gaze. The gentle expression he had been wearing earlier had changed to that of a more guarded one. I nodded silently, and he twisted back around, staying quiet for a long moment before finally answering, "I was poisoned."

I inhaled sharply and let myself mull it over, finding that I couldn't find anything better to say than, "That's terrible."

The corners of his lips turned up in a grim smile, and he said only one thing: "That is an understatement, my darling."

I was left to my own thoughts as Brian went on looking at my possessions, though not for very long, as I heard a sound of excitement leave his throat out of the blue.

"What?" I questioned, watching him as he repeatedly ran his hand through a couple of particular books, causing me to stand up and investigate. Walking over to him, I saw that he was motioning toward my collection of Nathaniel Hawthorne books. "Do you want to read one, or for me to read you one since you can't exactly hold them?"

He looked at me with big, brown, twinkling eyes. "Would you? It wouldn't be a bother?"

I smiled and shook my head. "Not at all, I love Hawthorne. Which one?"

He trailed a hand through the pages, then stopped when his digits were right in the middle of The House of the Seven Gables. "This was my favorite," he commented.

I quickly took it from its space on the shelf and flipped to the introduction. Brian paced over to my bed and took a seat on the edge of it, waiting as I sat down in the midst of all of my pillows and made myself comfortable. "Alright, ready?" He nodded quickly, a crooked smile adorning his features. I cleared my throat and looked over the first page before beginning, "Halfway down a bystreet of one of our New England towns stands a rusty wooden house, with seven acutely peaked gables, facing towards various points of the compass, and a huge, clustered chimney in the mist. The street is Pyncheon Street; the house is the old Pyncheon House; and an elm tree, of wide circumference, rooted before the door, is familiar to every townborn child by the title of the Pyncheon Elm."

I entertained my guest, reading for as long as I could, until my eyes grew weak, and the numbers on the clock read an alarming hour. I did have school the next morning, after all.

"Alright, I've gotta stop here because if I don't sleep soon, I'm going to end up falling unconscious during my history class tomorrow."

"That wouldn't be good," Brian said, though he looked amused. "I suppose I should be off, too. Thank you for being such a good host tonight, Miss Leigha."

I waved him off. "It's no problem. We'll have to finish the book some other time."

"Indeed," he agreed. "I'll call on you again soon."

For some reason, I couldn't help but smile at that. I knew that I enjoyed spending time with the ghost, but I was actually excited by the idea of him coming back in the near future.

"Okay, good night, Brian."

"Good night," he bid, grinning before he bowed and disappeared right before my eyes. Had it been the first night we talked, I probably would have screamed or stared for hours at the spot where he had been standing, but I was coming to terms with his strange existence. He was a ghost. What else would he have done, used the front door? That seemed unlikely, and blowing up into a cloud of dust seemed a little too flashy for the man. Disappearing into nothingness seemed to suit him well.

I stayed awake for some time, contemplating whether or not I was going crazy. Maybe my starting to believe that everything was actually happening was really just me losing my grip on reality. I would have probably felt better if I could tell someone about Brian, about his visits and our long chats, but something was keeping me from doing so. Maybe I just didn't want to get sent to some kind of insane asylum.

And, maybe I just wanted to keep him to myself for a little while longer.

There was nothing wrong with it. I was interested in his history, his entire life. He was an extraordinary being, and I had to admit that I was at least a little pleased with the fact that he had shown himself to me before anyone else, though that brought an entirely new question to mind.

Why?